


Flu Season

by StarMaamMke



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance, Sickfic, hopper gets sick, inspired by that amazing episode of Parks and Rec that everyone loves, joyce fusses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 22:50:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12640908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMaamMke/pseuds/StarMaamMke
Summary: Inspired by the Flu Season episode of "Parks and Recreation"; Joyce comes to Hopper's rescue.





	Flu Season

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr prompt (@starmaammke) . Sorry for unabashedly stealing a line from Parks and Rec for this one. But not really.

The coffee tasted like death. That was a terrible sign. Usually the first swallow of stong, black coffee poured like hot, soothing silk down Jim Hopper’s throat. On this particular day, it felt like swallowing molten tacks. He quickly spit the liquid into the sink, before letting out a series of loud, hacking coughs. 

“Go home, Jim!” Flo fussed, walking over to the Chief with a cup of steaming, greenish liquid.

“What’s this?” he grimaced. He couldn’t smell it because his head was stuffed with mucus and possibly cotton. 

“Mint tea with ginger. Perfect for what ails you.”

Jim actually gagged, pushing Flo’s offering away with an emphatic shake of his head. “Yuck.”

Flo pushed the cup into his protesting hands. “Go to your office, sit down, and drink it all. Then go home.” She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, and then snatched it away, her eyes wide. “Never mind that, you have a fever. Go have a seat and I’ll arrange for a ride home.”

“No you won’t.”

“ _Now_.”

Jim’s argument died in his aching throat. He didn’t have the energy to fight the small, stout mother figure in front of him, because every muscle in his body was aching, despite his determination to not be as sick as he felt. He tried to give Flo a withering look, but the effort of narrowing his eyes made his head swim, so he just turned and shuffled to his office. 

After twenty minutes of attempting to sip at the foul liquid in his cup, Joyce Byers came rushing into his office. Hopper groaned and covered his burning face with both hands - she was still wearing her work vest beneath her thin jacket, which told him that she had begged off of her shift at Melvald’s to take him home, which made him feel worse. She wasn’t even wearing a hat on her head, and it was freezing outside.

“Why you?” he groaned.

“I think Flo thinks I’m your only friend.”

You are, he wanted to say. He blearily regarded her, tiny and fierce with a mop of dark auburn waves framing a pale and determined face. Beautiful, strong, and his only friend. The only person who…

“Hopper, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Wanna see how many push ups I can do now?”

He grunted as she rushed to his side, pressing her small cool hand against this forehead, and then his cheeks. “Flo wasn’t kidding, was she?” She struggled to help him to his feet.

“What do you mean? Flo is hilarious.” He swayed on his feet and grabbed her shoulders for leverage. “Whoa. Be careful.”

“What?”

“The floor and the wall just switched. Walk very carefully.”

“Okay, Hop, let’s get you home and to bed.”

Jim snorted, and pulled Joyce in for a side hug, kissing the top of her head. 

“You gotta buy me dinner first - wait, no, I’ll buy. I feel bad that you took off of work to come get me. Could you wear that dress I like? The one that has that skirt that does this?” Joyce gave a little shriek as he swung one hip against her rib cage, nearly knocking her down as she attempted to walk him out of his office.

“Whatever you say, just walk like a normal person! Christ.”

Hopper closed his eyes in the passenger side seat of her car, and woke up in his bed. He turned his head to one side, and his eyes widened when he spotted Joyce, asleep in an armchair on the other side of his nightstand. Her coat was thrown over her slight frame, and her face was obscured by a curtain of hair. The angle of her neck and the lack of cushioning behind it told Hopper that she would wake with one hell of an crick if nothing was done about it.

“Joycie,” he croaked. 

Her eyes flew open and she sat straight, pushing the hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. “Hop.” She was smiling softly at him.

He reached over across his bed and grabbed a spare pillow, pushing it in her direction. “There’s blankets in my closet,” he murmured, sleepily.

“Always thinking of me,” Joyce replied, crossing the room to take the pillow.

“You have no idea.”


End file.
